


First times, honest tries, and true experiences.

by SiobhanMcG



Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bernie is uncomfortable with her sexuality, Character features, F/F, First Times, Fluff, Honest tries, Last ones, Sapphic Angst, Serena and Guy have a love/hate friendship, Serena just doesn't know what to do with her best friend, berena - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-03 17:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11536989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiobhanMcG/pseuds/SiobhanMcG
Summary: Bernie and Serena slowly unfold, as seen by themselves and others. Everyone has a different view; in some things they are first, in others last. Basically, several small ficlets interwoven as a  fic!  Additionally, Guy and Serena have a Love!Hate Friendship, everyone has a nickname and Bernie angsts over being the closet all those years and Serena comforts her.EDIT: The last chapter turns explicit after Dom and Bernie's phonecall. You can simply skip to the next snippet.





	1. First times

Cameron had been the first to know his mother was in love. He might not have seen as much of his mum as other children had of theirs, but he knew her well enough.  
For what felt like in the first time in ages, she looked happy. Nothing obvious to the untrained eye, Bernie Wolfe wasn’t the type for open emotions or exuberant smiles. But she had changed. She had a smile that reached her eyes, a new sway in her hips and bounce in her steps.

His mother’s eye shone when she looked at the slightly shorter woman. The woman was very different from his father. She seemed feisty and not one to be messed with, much unlike his father who had never really stood up to her. Until the divorce. His stomach churned slightly at the thought of the divorce and the statements… He pushed the thought away– _he’d deal with it later_ – and returned his attention to his mother.

It was fascinating, if not entertaining, to see his normally headstrong mother wrapped up in this woman’s charms. Serena. He suppressed a chuckle when his mother’s tongue stumbled over the syllables, blushing slightly. Seeing her like this made him forgive her. He could see now that she had truly loved him, his sister– even their father in her own way. It was the same expression she had worn they would pick her up from the airport, only now amplified. He didn’t know the other doctor, but he thought there was something in her eyes as well. She– Serena was fond of his mum, so much was obvious.

/-/

Cameron had been the first to know his mother was in love, and Ric had been the first to suspect Serena had her own feelings. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Serena had always been a flirt, but something told him Bernie was different and not only because she was a woman. Their banter was unique, making it both sincere and fragile. He decided to observe and give her the space she needed. Ms Wolfe was the first one since Edward who seemed worth the bother– not that he thought Edward _had_ been worth it. Serena had never expressed any interest in women, but he couldn’t honestly say he was surprised. Ric glanced over at them as he took another sip from his drink, they were standing together closely now– laughing. Both looked more content than he had seen them in a while, especially Bernie. He might not always have gotten along with her, but he hoped she’d be happier. No one deserved a nasty divorce like hers, although he was fully prepared to take on the ex-army medic in case she’d turn out to be a second Edward. _Rocky Griffin to the rescue, he joked to himself with a low chuckle._

/-/

Cameron had been the first to know his mother was in love, Ric had been the first to suspect Serena had her own feelings, but Evie was the first to ask. Serena and Bernie had been mentally inseparable, unbeknownst to each other. Serena’s thoughts had kept wandering off and her eyes went with it. She didn’t consciously realise it, but part of her was always with Bernie. Evie noticed. She had seen Serena gazing several times, sighing softly when no one else was looking. Serena looked like she felt when she saw Thomas at school, she liked Thomas. Curiosity ran over her and she decided to investigate. Evie was already mentally preparing herself to stealth around a bit, but none of that was needed. She caught Serena when one of the nurses wheeled her out for her scan, and Evie followed her gaze. To her surprise it wasn’t a cute nurse or charming doctor, but the lanky blonde surgeon who had come to see her earlier; Doctor Wolfe. She turned her head to check again, but Serena was definitely gazing at the blonde doctor, who was currently wearing a plastic apron splattered with something nasty. Evie wrinkled her nose. _Not exactly attractive._

“D’you like her?” she pounced as soon as Serena set foot in her room.

“What?” Serena replied, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

“The blonde doctor, Ms Wolfe.”

“Ah! Uhm..” –Serena was fiddling nervously with her clipboard– “Why, why would you think that?”

“It’s the way you look at her.”  
She was now stroking the hairs on the back of her neck.

“It’s how Margaret Finnegan looks at Max during French-”

There was a blush forming on Serena’s cheeks and Evie knew she was hitting all the right buttons. 

“-or the way I like to look at Thomas.”

As expected, Serena peered up at that. Evie suppressed a grin, she’d gladly trade that piece of information for something more interesting. And if she were completely honest, she loved talking about Thomas anyway.

“Oh! Found a boy you like? Now isn’t that great, tell me all about him.”

“So you do like her?” Serena didn’t seem to be capable of formulating an answer other than some unintelligible stammering.

“That was also the worst attempt at distracting me ever.” Evie said to save Serena from her own stuttering.

After a moment of silence, Serena finally answered. “Yes, I _might_ like her.”

They spent some time talking about Thomas and Ms Wolfe, and Serena gave her a last hug when it was time to leave, inviting her to come over for dinner sometime soon. When she was wheeled out she turned to wave at Serena one last time, but something caught her eye. The now cleaned-up Ms Wolfe was standing on the other side of the ward next to a bed, clipboard resting in her arms and smiling eyes resting on Serena.

/-/

Cameron had been the first to know his mother was in love, Ric had been the first to suspect Serena had her own feelings, Evie was the first to ask, and Fletcher was the first to be told.  
Serena wasn't quite sure _what_ she was doing in Fletch's room. She supposed she had just needed someone, _anyone_ , to talk with– to– at. Nervous energy was ratcheting through her veins clenching at her heart. 

> "Only you could pull off the impossible task of being the talk of the hospital without actually being awake."

Serena sighed, heavy hearted.

> "Mind you, you're probably doing me a favour... Lord knows what they'd be talking about otherwise."

But she did know. They’d talk about how she’d have yet another infatuation, this time so desperate she went for women. Not that it wasn’t doomed to fail, like the others before.  
They’d talk about how Bernie would have gotten herself yet another lesbian lover, this time one who actually looked the part. _No, she hadn’t forgotten that particular rumour yet._

She checked Fletch's bloods absentmindedly as she started rambling.

> "You'd think I'd be old enough to know better, wouldn't you?” 

She asked, picking up the small torch and starting to fiddle with it.

> "I mean, how many F1s have I schooled to keep work and love-life separate?"

But this hadn’t just been a quick shag in the on-call room, or a fumble in a storage cupboard. They had kissed. If it had only been drunk sex, this would have been easier.

She busied her hands with checking Fletch's pupillary response, not expecting any changes.

> "And then I go and break my own rule...” She paused for a moment, taking in the absurdity of the situation. “With Bernie Wolfe, of all people.”

She would rather kill herself than admit it, but she loved the sound on her lips. Almost as much as she had loved having Bernie’s lips on her lips. Her heart skipped a beat at every opportunity she got to shape the other woman’s name. Sometimes she would do it in the car, ( _Bernie Wolfe._ ) knowing no one could hear her speaking her best friend’s name for no reason. Other moments she would wistfully sigh it in the elevator giddy with the secrecy of it ( _Oh Bern..._ ), letting all tension leave her body with that sigh before entering the ward. And finally in bed, after she had finally allowed herself to think about her _that_ way, after carefully trying her name in _that_ way ( _Berenice!_ ).

> “Serena Campbell– Lesbian." 

She laughed.

 _Lesbian._ If it wasn't for the mess she was in, she'd have found it entertaining. She was no more a lesbian than Dominic Copeland was straight, but it would be what people would say regardless so she'd better get used to it. The word felt foreign on her lips, it somehow tasted different now that it was describing herself. The _‘l’_ rolled awkwardly over her tongue, while the _‘e’_ and _‘i’_ felt sharper and the _‘b’_ carried added weight. The _‘n’_ had finality. The sounds felt like shackles now, forming the constraints of this word rediscovered. She wasn't so sure anymore if she still found it entertaining.

> "If this gets out it'll be all over the hospital like a rash, especially if Ric Griffin gets hold of it."

If only Ric Griffin was her only worry. He would tease relentlessly, but he'd be kind. And even if not, she wasn't so much worried about herself as about those surrounding her. Jason already getting the occasional stare and raised eyebrow, not that he would take it personally. But Serena dreaded to think about the possible outcomes, she'd hate for him to get caught in the crossfire.  
She shook the thought out of her head. It was a worst case scenario. He wasn't her real concern anyway.

Bernie.

__

Bernie.

__

The grapevine hadn't treated her kindly the last time and she doubted it would be better now. Bernie might not be the type to let it show, but it had affected her. She didn't like the attention; whispered words behind her back and gossip swirling around her.

Wonderfully awkward Bernie.

Who brought her coffee and pastries, gave her hip flasks filled with Shiraz and taught her to curse in Pashto. Who tried so hard to dispel any awkwardness between them that she ended up stuttering, much unlike the commanding woman the trauma unit knew. Bernie who shot her broad grins and blushing smiles.

She picked up the folder at Fletch’s feet and walked over to lean against the windowsill.

> "Oh, and then I had to go on and lie. I didn't kiss a girl in Stepney– I've never even been to Stepney."

She remembered her lie. She wished she had been to Stepney and knew what to make of herself. Not that she had suddenly turned into a stuttering, stammering confused school girl- no, that phase had passed. She just wasn't quite sure what to do, what to make of Bernie's reaction or where to go with their current relationship. They’d have to figure that out sooner or later.

The folder in her hand didn’t present her with any new, miraculous insights into either Fetch’s status or her own messy affairs. 

She had really had it bad this time. Maybe it was a side-effect caused by Bernie being her best-friend? Did the therapeutic index of love change when it was co-occurring with friendship?  
She knew the symptoms and had the diagnosis in hand, if only she knew the appropriate treatment plan.  
Without her co-lead by her side, it was proving rather difficult to find the appropriate medicine.


	2. Honest tries

Bernie tried to run.

Runs from her parents, runs from Marcus, runs from Alex and runs from Serena. She let her head fall against the steering wheel, the grey leather felt too forgiving.  
She had told herself it was for the best, that she didn’t want to force Serena into anything. She had told herself that she now understood Alex; what the other woman had meant when she said she wanted all of Bernie. But did she? Only partially.  
She didn’t want Serena to back out after the first three months, realising it had all been one big sapphic midlife crisis. But deep down Bernie knew it was more than that.

Serena knew her feelings and knew Bernie was a woman. She had admitted being scared, - _Which is more than can be said for me_ \- but seemed very set on Bernie.

Resting her head against her head she felt her heart twist and turn. Fear. She hadn’t know what to do and decided to run. Afghanistan and Iraq were no options anymore, so the next best thing would have to do. Ukraine.  
  
Truth was she didn’t know what to do. As ridiculous as it sounded, at the ripe age of fifty she had no clue about how to build functioning relationships- not relationships that involved _real_ feelings. Because this was real, Serena was real and so were her feelings. Bernie had thought she loved Marcus, making it so much easier to marry him and have children. But over the years it had become more difficult to pretend, most of the times she didn’t even know herself what was chasing her away from her marriage. She didn’t recognise the skipped heartbeat when meeting a particularly pretty face or when brushing with an especially sharp mind. Only with Alex she fully realised, but it had never stretched beyond the two of them and once it had dared to she had been terrified. It was one thing to acknowledge this to herself and inch into this new identity, but another to have it made public; have it made undeniably real. So she ran.

Ran from her parents, ran from Marcus, ran from Alex, ran from Serena and ran from herself.  
  
/-/  
  
Bernie had tried to run and Raf tried to console Serena. He brought her the coffee Bernie would take with her, sometimes even grabbing pastries on his way. He knew it didn't replace Bernie's, but he tried nevertheless. They didn't talk about Bernie, others did plenty of that for them. Together with Fletch he ensured that no one dared to say anything on their ward or in its vicinity. He'd had to admit that that part might have been more entertaining than they previously expected. As a result no nurse or porter dared to pay Serena any more attention than strictly necessary. If she knew he'd done it, she didn't show it.

They'd downed wine together, lots of it. Sometimes accompanied by Fletch after dinner with the kids. Talking about all matters except the blonde surgeon. Not that either Fletch or Raf felt a strong need to talk about the other woman. Even if they had gotten over her sudden departure within a week or two, Serena hadn't. And with Serena seemingly trying her utmost not to be resentful or petty, Raf and Fletch had taken the task upon themselves, they were one big family up on AAU, after all.

/-/

  
Bernie had tried to run, Raf had tried to console Serena and Jason tried to get them together. Successfully, he might add if one were to ask him. It certainly hadn't been one Berenice bloody Wolfe and her unfathomable skill with words.  
It had been shiningly obvious to anyone on AAU how emotional turmoil was resting between their two lead consultants- now that Ms Wolfe was back. In the week leading no one had even dared mentioning Ms Wolfe’s name anymore, afraid of the inevitable russian roulette that would follow.

Once Bernie was back no one was quite sure what the correct course of action was. Morven opted for letting them work together, giving them a chance at recovering what they had. Raf was against, still upset with Bernie for the state she'd left Serena in. If the woman wasn't going to show some remorse or initiative or anything really, she might as well work for it herself. He knew he was being petty, but someone had to be. Serena was his mate and a close friend, one who'd had gone through too much already at the expense of one Berenice Wolfe. The blonde might be worth it, but she'd have to prove it. If not to Serena, at least to him. He watched them dance around each other that day, both trying to defend their friendship, but never reaching out for a relationship.

The tension between them was a strange mix of hurt, anxiety, attraction and fear.

Neither seemed to know where to put themselves. They were dancing the same dance to different beats, standing on each other toes and pulling on their arms, not quite knowing where to rest them. Was it appropriate to lay her arms on her back, or was that too intimate? Maybe her shoulders, or was that too distant? Neither knew the correct answer, not even knowing whether they needed to be intimate or professional.

Instead their arms tangled as soon as they met again.

 

> "Auntie Serena forgot you were coming back."

And as they tried to find each other's hands anew… 

 

> “I don't suppose you fancy assisting later in theatre, do you? I've got a perforated ulcer on the duodenum.”  
>  “ You do know how to show a girl a good time!”  
>  “Auntie Serena, have you told Bernie what happened between you and Robbie?”

  
… they ended up bruising toes.

Bernie had so wanted to hold Serena close again, feel the weight in her arms and rest her chin on those strong shoulders. She had been scared when she first felt the warmth against her fingertips as they had nestled themselves in short dark hair, scared of having made a mistake. But when Serena had kissed her back with that pressing urgency, Bernie had just melted into it. She held her as close as she could and they simply leant back against the wall behind them; in that one perfect moment there had been nothing but them on the floor of _their_ theatre. Their kisses had gradually lost urgency and become more languid, Bernie had felt calm yet nervous. Serena’s scent, warmth and grip all felt familiar, with her lips tasting like home. She couldn’t help but shudder as the tension in her stomach released itself. Serena pulled back, inexplicably knocking all air out of Bernie as she now fully realised what just happened and so they sat there for a moment. Smiling at one another on the cold, hard floor of theater. She simply held the other woman, stroking her hair, then her face, ghosting her fingers over an eyebrow as Serena ducked her head, almost shyly. It was the first time she had seen her like this; normally shyness wasn’t a word in Serena Campbell’s dictionary. Then again the same could be said for kissing women and work colleagues- or someone who happened to be both. Bernie tapped the tip of her nose slightly, then dropped a kiss on top and tightened her arms around her. Eventually someone made to enter the theater and they broke apart. How she longed for that moment again, but instead she tightened her arms too tightly around Serena, even when she knew she had no right to do so. 

 

> “ Robbie's back on the scene, then?”  
>  “ No, no, not really. Briefly. But I realised that… that it was a rather large mistake.”  
>  “...”  
>  “ You don't mind, do you?”  
>  “Mind? I was away. It's your life, nothing to do with me… Feel free to chuck in a cliche of your own whenever you feel like it. ”  
>  “Right… Just being polite."

The words left her mouth and she didn’t try to stop them, fully knowing what Serena meant, knowing that she had no right to speak like this. Serena stepped away, out of her arms and decided started dancing to her own song with steps that alternated between work and her nephew.

Bernie had tried to stumble back into their beat, 

 

> “ Pechinku.”  
>  “ Bless you...?”  
>  “ It's Ukrainian for liver.”  
>  “ Very helpful. Just a shame we live in England and speak English.”

… but Serena wouldn’t let her.

So she had given up and accepted that their dance was over, Serena had found a new song to sing.

But Jason hadn’t quite agreed. After his arm was functional again he strolled through the ward, his working day wasn’t over after all and his arm felt quite alright again. He found a package in one of the bins, it was obviously a bottle of wine. He frowned as he wondered who might have brought a bottle of wine into the hospital and then thrown it away again. Gifts were supposed to be given, not chucked into a bin. Then he remembered meeting Bernie here this morning. He hadn’t paid attention to it at the moment itself -he had been busy giving her his card and catching her up on the current state of personal in the hospital- but she had definitely been holding something which looked suspiciously like the bottle in his hand. He thought for a moment and then understood. The bottle must have been a gift for Auntie Serena, but Doctor Bernie clearly hadn’t given it to her. When he peered into the trashcan again, he saw Robbie’s book. Auntie Serena clearly didn’t want to give it back to Robbie, meaning she mustn't like him anymore. Was that why Doctor Bernie had not given Auntie Serena the gift, because she thought she didn’t love her anymore? Jason frowned. He had a feeling it was all related, but he couldn’t figure out how. Relationships were so puzzling. Nurse Fletcher interrupted his thinking, asking him if everything was alright. Holding a packed bottle of wine whilst looming over a trashcan was unusual behaviour after all. So he explained his thoughts to nurse Fletcher, who in turned had the solution to his problem. Nurse Fletcher explained that he thought it was likely (‘ _99% procent sure mate_ ’) that Doctor Bernie and Auntie Serena actually liked each other very much, but didn’t realise they felt the same. Before they could discuss the problem any further they were interrupted by doctor Di Lucca (‘ _I just heard from Ric Miss Wolfe has asked for a transfer?!’_ ) and a crisis situation presented itself.  
No one was particularly looking forward to another three months of bitterly brokenhearted Serena, not after she had finally cleared up a bit with the prospect Bernie returning. Raf swore he could strangle the blonde right now, but unfortunately he had patients to attend so left his ideas with Fletch. Fletch however bet 15 quid on swearing he knew how to get them together, in response Raf shrugged and accepted the bet. It was a win-win situation, he’d either win 15 quid or spared another three months of dark clouds hanging over AAU.  
Jason was still confused.  
  
“Why don’t they just talk and ask each other?” 

“Because they keep running away.”

“Can’t make sure they don’t run then?”

Fletch was silent for a moment before his eyes lit up.  
“Now there’s an idea Jason my man! That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”  
  
Jason very much liked the idea of locking his auntie into her office, being delighted in finally having figured out the problem and now solving it. They raced over to get their previously prepared papers and pressed them against the window, both getting an unholy delight from the look on Serena’s face. When his boss walked to sit next to the blonde trauma surgeon Fletch decided it was probably time to give the ladies some privacy. It seemed their plan had worked, even if it turned out Jason had lost the key to their office. In hindsight he thought that might have been for the best, as the shutters were pulled shut not long after. When a mechanic had finally freed them from their office both women looked positively tousled and were wearing wide grins, leaving Fletch without a doubt in his mind that they hadn’t spend their time in the office doing paperwork.  
Seemed like Raf owed him 15 quid.

/-/

Bernie had tried to run, Raf had tried to console Serena, Jason had tried to get them together and Elinor tried to understand their union.  
  
They had met up for coffee on a Saturday afternoon in a café that reminded Serena of the awful home decor of the late 60’s, apparently that was fashionable again. Elinor had sat listening to her mother; a unique event as she would normally interrupt every five syllables. Eli had stared at her mother with a mixture of discomfort, fascination and disbelief that she didn't even tried to hide.

"I'd like for you to meet her."

"Oh."

Serena gave her daughter a questioning look, but it wasn't enough anymore to pressure her into talking. _Those had been the times._

" I'm fine mom, I don't need to meet her." Elinor didn't sound as sincere as Serena would have liked her to be.

"I mean, as long as you like her that's all that matters, right?"

Serena received the message loud and clear now. _I don't need to like her and I won't._ But she decided she wasn't having any of it.

"Yes, but I'd like for you to meet her. It's important to me- you are important to me. Both of you in fact."

"Oh, you're seriously together then? Not just dating or something?"

"I'm not having an experimental midlife crisis, if that's what you're asking."

Elinor seemed to be slightly remorseful now.

"I love her, very much in fact." Serena continued.

She could tell Elinor was about to let out one of her sarcastic snorts any moment, laughing at her old mums sentimentality. _Like she was some kind of barmy aunt at the Christmas dinner; an embarrassment._  
Then it clicked.

"She's my partner Elinor, just as much as you're my daughter- And don't give me that look."

Elinor huffed and said "What am I supposed to say? 'Congratulations, I hope you're happy together'? It isn't that I don't want you to be I happy. I just- I'm..."

 _Uncomfortable.  
_ Serena decided to shoot the elephant in the room.

"Is it because Bernie's a woman?"  
Elinor squirmed and started fidgeting with the menu on the table. The memory of Eli sitting at the kitchen table after the infamous drugs and ectopic pregnancy incident flashed through her mind. She'd clearly rather be anywhere but here, but Serena wasn't going to let her off the hook this time.

After what Elinor must have experience as a painfully long moment she answered.

"No... Well, yes! No" -she gestured her hands in the air whilst giving her mother an exasperated look- "I mean, partially yes. It's all a new and…-" Elinor cringed her nose giving Serena another look. _Just get the message mum._

"You didn't expect me to run of with a woman, but now that I have the idea makes you uncomfortable" Serena deadpanned, putting Elinor and the elephant out of their misery.

"Yes."

"Well, neither did I."

They both laughed at that.

"Next time I'll ask for a month’s notice." Serena said, the elephant put to rest.

"Next time?" Elinor quirked an eyebrow, mirroring her mother.

"Yes, didn't I say? I was planning on building a harem, decided to catch up with your father. Maybe we could share-"

"Mum! No!" Elinor said disgusted, but clearly entertained.

"But please" Serena said, serious again and taking her daughters hand "will you meet her?"

"I'll try."

"Give her a chance."  
  
“Didn’t she dump you and leave for Ukraine.”  
  
“Well there’s that-”

“And doesn’t also never clean the office.”

“Not exactly, but-”

“And her hair looks like crow’s nest?”

“Yes.” Serena sighed as it was clear the Spanish inquisition wasn’t going to back off anytime soon.

“And she’s all shouty and bossy and never listens to you?” Elinor indeed continued.

“Sometimes.”

“And you’re _still_ serious about seeing her?” Elinor and Serena were now raising their eyebrows in tandem.

“Yep”

  
Elinor stared at her mother for a moment before replying “She must look really great in uniform then.”  
Serena burst out laughing as she saw her daughter smugly staring back at her.

“She looks spectacular, but then I think she looks spectacular in anything and _nothing._ ”

“Muuuuuuuum!”


	3. Last ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some minor angst, lightened with comedy and banter.  
> This contains my headcanon that Guy and Serena have a hate!friendship where they have some banter when not wanting to strangle each other. Also some minor coming out angst and Edward being a prat. Enjoy!

Bernie had been last to accept.  
  
Bernie was supposed to be cooking dinner that night after Serena's long shift. Jason was off to Alan for the week so they could try one of her more experimental eastern dishes.  Serena found an empty house instead, lights low in the living room and Bernie's bag and other possessions thrown haphazardly over the living room table. Her shoes were still standing by the door, but upon closer inspection her lighter and cigarettes were missing. As expected she found Bernie in the garden, unlit cigarette dangling from her long fingers. She was sat on the garden bench, back towards Serena.

Serena made to approach, but found she couldn’t be brought to move her feet. Something in the atmosphere around her stopped her from moving. The muscles in her shoulders and back were tensed Serena saw after a moment of observation. Her fingers were trembling slightly and Bernie still hadn’t noticed her. 

When Serena finally sits down, Bernie turns towards her. Her skin is white as a sheet spare the sore red of her eyes and the blue of her lips. The blonde must have stopped crying a while ago as she now looks eerily calm, but still afraid. This Bernie is a bleak shell of her usual vibrant self. For one of the first times Serena’s sees how thin Bernie truly is, all sharp bones and scrawny limbs; she really ought to eat more. Serena takes one of Bernie’s hands in her own, unsure if Bernie wants to be touched right now, but also unwilling to let her sit there alone. Her slender fingers are rigid from the cold and Serena can’t seem to lace them between her own. Bernie still says nothing, staring somewhere between herself and Serena, turned into herself. 

She wonders what brought on this breakdown. The only other time Serena had seen the other woman like this, was when Jason had accidentally turned the sound of his war documentary up too much, but even then she hadn’t been like this; frozen rigid and running for the hills. Because that  _ was  _ what Bernie was doing right now, albeit not physically. She was running away to place faraway. Serena racks her brain about what could have happened but came up with nothing. Bernie is still silent, looking past her now. She tries to coax it out of her, murmuring words of encouragement and stroking Bernie’s long fingers, but she stays unresponsive. Serena feels her stomach flinch, what had shell-shocked this usually brave woman so badly? Serena lifts up Bernie’s hand to press a kiss on her fingers, as she always does when the other woman is particularly upset or agitated, but Bernie retrieves her hand before Serena can lift it and tucks it between her legs. She seems to be bracing herself and looks so very small gathering up whatever little willpower and courage is left within her. Serena is worried and shuffles closer.    
  
“I–  I’m a lesbian.”   
  
Bernie suddenly blurts it out and she starts shaking as tears are welling up again.   
Serena tries to wrap her arm around Bernie, but she recoils violently. Bernie looks at her with wide eyes filled with fear and something else. Anguish? Self-flagellation? Disgust. Serena drops Bernie’s hand, burned.    
  
“No– I– ” Bernie finally speaks, voice cracked and rasping. 

“I’m sorry...” She whimpers, barely audible and Serena gingerly strokes Bernie’s fingers again, too afraid to press on.   
  
“It’s the first time I’ve ever said that.” Bernie gathers more courage. “Out loud.” She swallows and forces herself to continue. “To anyone.”   
  
Serena looks stunned, doesn’t know what to say.   
  
“Saying it makes it so final, so permanent… Makes it real.”   
  
They had been living together for three months now, been together more than a year, but apparently it was only now that the realisation had hit Bernie. It was easy to forget how deeply ingrained Bernie’s fear and denial had been. She could be passionate and open, loved holding Serena’s hand, keeping her close, but not always. They had visited Bernie’s hometown once, as they had passed by it on their way from a conference. Bernie had been on edge, flinching away from Serena and fidgeting. When they came home Bernie had showered for ages and when she emerged her lips had turned blue and her skin looked painfully scrubbed. She had slept in the spareroom that night. Serena had felt hurt, even if she knew it wasn’t her Bernie was running from. No, Bernie was desperately trying to run from herself, her own upbringing and her fears. She had come around after a day or two, apologised profoundly and kissed Serena senseless with promises of love squeezed in between every kiss, told her she’d never leave her again. Serena had settled in her arms, believing her words. 

And she still believed them. Bernie wouldn’t leave her and nor would she leave Bernie; especially now.   
  
“My mother called. They found out.” She finally said, throat constricting around the words she was forcing out.   
  
“Oh Bernie.” Serena rubbed her arms, still not sure if she could touch Bernie, but she didn’t move away.   
  
“We had words.”  Bernie pauses for a moment, making Serena fear for what was to come. “My father is refusing to speak to me.”   
  
Her heart skipped an unpleasant beat. Serena knew how attached Bernie had been to her father, they had always been close as they shared their love for the army. In fact, it had been her father that had encouraged her to join up after Bernie had felt that working in the NHS wasn’t satisfying her anymore. He had always told her she’d make a fine trauma surgeon, offered her support every step of the way. Serena had met him once at a birthday party, long before they had gotten together and she had seen they were undeniably fond of each other. Bernie had always held her head high with her father’s name and told Serena how blessed she felt with her parents still being alive. She knew he had been suffering from dementia lately, slipping away more and more as time passed, much like her own mother. Bernie had gone and visited him a few times, Serena never joined as by unspoken rule. She respected this, knowing that her relation with her father was too precious to Bernie to endanger, even if it meant hiding herself for as long as he had left.   
  
Her mother was harsher; a proud and vicious woman. From what Serena knew, she was the first to shower Bernie with both praise and criticism. Her mother could make her glow brightest –only topped unknowingly by Serena– but could also bring her to tears. Even at this age and unfortunately Bernie’s mother had lost none of her sharp mind or tongue to time.   
It reminds Serena of her own mother and for a moment she is grateful Adrienne died before she had met Bernie. Guilt weighs her stomach as soon as she thinks the thought, but she can’t deny the truth it carries.

They need to talk, but not now. Serena knows that there is so much more underneath the surface of this nasty wound, years of denial and fear and they’ll talk once Bernie is ready– once they’re not cryofreezing themselves on a garden bench. She lifts her arm again and looks at Bernie for consent. She nods. Serena wraps her arms around her and feels Bernie flinch before relaxing into her arms. She strokes her hair and rubs small circles on her back. Eventually Bernie comes back to herself and wraps her arms around Serena, hugging her tightly and pressing her as close as is physically possible. The iron grip hurts Serena a little, but she finds she enjoys it; a physical proof Bernie is no longer running. She feels Bernie shift her head from Serena’s chest, now looking up at her through her fringe. It’s a sight Serena will never tire of; so quintessentially Bernie. She smiles at Bernie, strokes her hair and slides her hand down to cup a cold cheek. Bernie closes her eyes and leans into Serena’s touch, nuzzling the palm of her hand, before looking up again.   
  
“I love you,” she whispers, her thin lips barely moving.   
  
Serena’s heart swells up as she looks into vulnerable brown eyes. She fights the urge to kiss her. Wonderfully brave Bernie, who is no longer running for the hills, but now looking up at her and telling Serena she loves her.    
  
“I know,” Serena murmurs. “I love you too.”   
  


/-/  
  


Bernie had been last to accept and Guy had been the last to know, but that hadn't stopped him from informing Serena he did indeed knew. Via text.  
  
Serena had just been reclining on the couch, snuggled into Bernie, watching a nondescript detective-series when she heard her phone buzz.

> _ So I hear congratulations are in order Ms Campbell _

‘Guy Self’ was the name displayed above the message, not what she expected. Serena quirks an eyebrow as she types out a response.

> _ Hello to you as well Mr Self. _

She wonders what he was up to, they weren’t exactly the best of friends after all. Although she had to admit that the last times she had heard of him, he had sounded a little less odious, sometimes  _ almost _ pleasant even. The keyword being almost.

> _ I have been told someone gave the boys on AAU a good show _

Serena chuckles lightly,  _ so that’s what he was on about _ . Seemed like the Holby rumour mill was extending its influence far beyond Holby. She had to admit that in their better moments she had shared some chuckles and barbs with Guy, even if she knew he undoubtedly said similar things about her once her back was turned, but so did she.

> _ Whatever can you mean... _

Two could play this game.   
And Serena was  _ not _ about to let Guy bloody Self win–  not now and not ever.   
  
In the meantime Bernie had turned her head away from the blonde woman on the screen to eye Serena with some curiosity. Whoever was texting Serena had her full attention, judging from the dangerous glinster in those brown eyes.

> _ An interaction involving a certain ex-army medic who has had Oliver Valentine's hands in her chest? _

Serena laughs, it seemed that Guy Self was still fully entangled in the Holby grapevine for all intents and purposes. She couldn’t help but not be completely surprised at that revelation, the man was a bit of a shark after all. Even from the far ends of the earth – Dubai Ric told her in case she was planning a holiday–  Guy was still meddling in her business. She grinned.

Bernie tries to discreetly steal a glance at the screen of Serena’s phone, curious about who she is texting.The blonde policewoman on the tv was shouting at her sister now and Bernie debates for a moment if she wants to focus on the series, or see what Serena was getting up to.   
_The pretty policewoman would have to wait. For now.  
_

> _ I didn't know you were so involved with the Holby rumour mill, still got some porters in your pocket? Or is Dubai not interesting enough for you?? _

Serena is grinning now. She and Guy might not really get along–  or actually just not get along most of the time, but they had their good moments filled with banter. Whether they liked it or not, they were pretty evenly matched.

_ Oh.  _ Now that was not a name Bernie had expected to find on Serena’s screen. She obviously knew Guy, although she personally did not have much of an opinion about the man. He had quite the ego, which she disapproved of–  especially when it was her head on the operating table, but he was a good surgeon. And she still chuckled when remembering his expression at the whole barn-debacle.    


> _ It's certainly interesting, don't you and Hanssen worry. But I take it congratulations ARE in order then? _

If Serena had liked guy just a little bit more, his message might have almost come across as sweet, but even at the best of moments Serena couldn’t fathom to think of Guy Self as sweet.   
  
Bernie is now reading along with Serena and the previous messages. The idea that the news of their newfound relationship had reached even those far outside of Holby both scares and excites her–  she possessively cuddles Serena closer. It was nice calling Serena hers, and knowing that other people knew that she was indeed hers.

> _ Yes, thank you Guy. Now go back to planning whatever coup d'état you are currently working on (it'd better not be Holby's). _

There is truth in Serena’s message, she would rather prefer it if Guy Self were to stay out of their business for an indefinite period of time. He was much more likeable over amicable banter via text from the other side of the earth, than he was meddling in Holby.

Bernie suppresses a snort at Serena’s very Serena– like reaction. She had only heard about the wars between Guy and Serena (both from Serena and from innocent bystanders) and it hadn’t been pretty. It was a crossfire she would  _ not _ want to be caught in.

> _ I wouldn't dream of it dear Serena. I wouldn't want to anger Ms. Wolfe. She seemed like a very fierce woman  
>  _ _ But in all seriousness, it IS good to hear you've found someone _

Serena  _ really _ wants to keep a serious face and not smile at Guys message, but she can’t help it. She smiles a wide, happy smile. Bernie is a fierce woman indeed, a wonderfully fierce woman and it  _ is _ great to have finally found someone she is happy to call her equal.    
Her thoughts are interrupted by a loud honking noise close to her ears.   
  
When Bernie reads Guy’s message she can’t help but laugh. If Guy had been less of an arrogant prick and been seated on their side of the table, so to speak, he and Serena might have gotten along like a house on fire. But that was a thought she will never reveal to Serena, for fear of her physical safety.   
  
Serena frowns and playfully pokes Bernie between her ribs, which didn’t help her case.

> _ Don't you worry (she says 'Hi' btw).  _ _  
>  _ _ Thank you, I take it 'The Nero of Neuro' is also doing fine then? _

Bernie is still laughing, but also playfully pressing kisses into Serena’s hair as she pulls Serena closer against her as her fingers fly over the screen. Suddenly an idea enters Bernie’s mind and she grabs Serena’s phone. Serena looks confused as Bernie browses through her phone and eventually opens the camera.  
“What– ?” Serena wants to ask, but Bernie isn’t listening.  
  
“Bright smile Campbell.” Bernie chuckles as she rests her head on Serena’s shoulder.   
  
She takes a few photos, Serena looks confused in the first photo, but then she smiles and nuzzles her head into Bernie’s hair, kisses her in the last one. They decide to send the one where Bernie is simply resting her head on Serena’s shoulder, grinning slightly. It would be all over the hospital vineyard before they went to sleep probably, but for once Bernie couldn’t find herself to care. If two middle-aged women cuddled up for a selfie in their home wear (a sweater and sweater) was the most sensational thing on the vineyard, so be it. They would get over it.

> _ As fine as 'The Witch of the Boardroom', but with a cocktail in hand. _

When they open the reply there is photo attached of Guy on a terrace, indeed holding an expensive looking cocktail with sunglasses perched on his nose. When Serena reads the message she huffs indignantly and Bernie snickers.    
“Ouch. Zing.” Serena turns at Bernie to squint at her, but Bernie simply kisses her nose and ignores her pout.

> _ Witch of the Boardroom??!! _

Serena’s hands fly over the screen as Bernie continues so press soft kisses into Serena’s hair, attempting to soothe her a bit. Although Serena could be very cute when she was slightly upset, Bernie didn’t want to tip the scales too much, so decides to calm Serena a little.   


> _ Nero of Neuro? _

They should have seen that coming and Serena simply shrugs, drawing a soft “Oi!” from Bernie who was resting her chin on Serena’s shoulder. When Bernie resettles herself Serena gives her head a soft pat that she leans into, enjoying the feeling of Serena’s hand stroking her head.

> _ All's fair in love and war. _

_  
_ Serena looks smug as she sends the reply and can feel Bernie squeezing the arm wrapped tightly around her waist. She knows Bernie’s heart skips when she types the word ‘love’ and it’s captivating.

> _ It is indeed. Good night Ms Campbell. Pass on my regards to 'The Wolfe of AAU' _

Bernie hadn’t heard the nickname before, but she instantly decides the likes it.    
“We make a good couple” she remarks “The wicked witch and wayward Wolfe.”   
Serena snorts in response “More like a wolf pup at the moment.”    
With that Bernie growls softly as Serena types out her last response to Guy, having decided she has seen and heard enough of him to last her another year. Partially because it’s Guy, partially because Bernie is now playfully biting her ear in between growls.

> _ Will do. Good night Mr Self, but don't burn Dubai. I was planning on visiting when you have left. _

/-/

Bernie had been last to accept, Guy had been the last to know and Charlotte had been the last to react. When she did it was short and Bernie had shed a tear.

_ I hope you'll be happy together.  
_ _ We should talk sometime. _

_ –CH _

It had been a long year.

/-/

  
Bernie had been last to accept, Guy had been last to know, Charlotte had been last to react, but Serena had gotten the last word after Edward called Bernie in the middle of the night. 

He had obviously been drinking heavily that night, before deciding to inform his ex-wife about his feelings regarding her recent life-choices. At first Edward had laughed, snorting in disbelief when his daughter told him. Surely it was just a joke. Then he had felt awkward, he had never known his ex-wife had any interest in women. 

A few drinks later he realised he found the thought rather exciting, sexy. Serena had always been rather feisty, hot and passionate. Liberty was pretty, but she was nothing like Serena. She didn't have that natural authority or fire burning within her. Serena was sensual and fierce, and the idea of her getting all raw and sweaty with another woman turned him on beyond reason he found now. 

He had heard the name Bernie Wolfe before in passing, but had always presumed it had been a man.  _ What kind of woman was named “Bernie” anyway?  _ His curiosity won in the end and he tried to Google the woman, he couldn’t honestly say he didn’t want to put a face to his fantasy.   
  
_ Oh _ .   
  
_ OH. _ __  
__  
Seems it wasn’t only  _ men _ in uniform Serena had a thing for.    
_ That  _ _ ‘Bernie Wolfe’  _ he thought: frontline trauma-surgeon, more than a few  __ very impressive surgeries,responsible for several advancements in the field. Even in her photo she had a  commanding presence, her shoulders back and standing tall, a few inches on Serena in height and hair length, her cropped blonde locks framing a face more or less the same age as his ex-wife. 

Even so, he didn’t see the appeal of the woman. Tall but lanky, without much in way of curves. Her face seemed oddly off, her nose a little too large, mouth a little too wide and lips just a bit too thin. Nevertheless, a rather pleasing image shot through his mind: Serena naked on her knees, slim hands knotted tightly in her short hair and her face buried between the other woman’s legs, army fatigues hanging loosely around her hips.    
  
Had Edward been a somewhat decent man, or a sober man for that matter, he might have let his drunken thoughts rest there and gone to bed satisfied. But he was neither. With Liberty off to her sister’s he needed someone else to take the brunt of his sexual frustration.  Namely, the person currently occupying his mind: Serena.   
  
If Edward had been the reflecting kind of man, he might have looked back and realised that this was where it all went wrong. When he slung his legs off the couch, put down his half empty glass of vodka, stumbled to the phone (he had no clue where the hell he had last seen his own phone) and creased his brow in concentration as he tried to remember his ex-wife’s phone number. But Edward wasn’t the reflecting kind of man and thus he dialled.

Bernie woke up both confused and annoyed.  _ Who the hell was calling them on their home number in the middle of the bloody night?! _ She stumbled out of bed as quickly and quietly as possible, hoping not to wake Serena and praying she’d reach the phone in time.   
  
Once she had reached the bleeding thing she practically smashed in the answer button before snapping gruffly at whoever had dared calling.

“Yes?!”

The other end of the line remained silent. If Bernie had been more awake she might have been able to hear the stupefied bewilderment in that silence. But it was 3 am and Bernie couldn’t be blamed for that.   
  
“If this is your idea of a joke, I can tell you it isn’t funny.” She couldn’t be arsed with politeness right now, a threat was all she was currently capable of. “If this isn’t a joke, I urge you to speak now, whoever you are, before I drag you through this line.”   
  
“Where’s ‘Rena?” Edward finally managed to produce, confused.

“Asleep,” Bernie barked in a hushed voice. “And who the hell are you and why do you want to speak to her?” she demanded.   
  
Then it dawned on Edward. “You’re  _ her _ , aren’t you?”   
  
“I’m who exactly?” Bernie was growing more annoyed by the second with the slurred voice on the other end of the line. The voice’s acquaintance with Serena was the only thing currently preventing her from slamming down the phone and returning to bed.

“Berenice Wolfe.”   
  
“Yes, so?” She was grinding her teeth now.   
  
“You’re shagging my wife.”   
  
_ Ah _ . It took her a moment. 

__  
Edward. __  
__  
She should have known he was the only person who would call in the middle of the night, completely off his head, and demand to speak to Serena. 

“ _ Ex- _ wife,” she growled, hoping he’d get the hint.   
  
Edward huffed.  _ Odious woman, clearly the possessive type _ . “Still, are you?”   
  
“Still what?” Bernie was trying her best not to crush the phone; the thought of simply putting down the phone didn’t breach through her annoyance with Edward.   
  
“Sleeping with ‘Rena. Shagging her, fuc– ”

“I would normally say that’s none of your bloody business,” Bernie snarled, mentally ready to strangle Edward with the no– longer existing phone cord. “But since you seem to have some kind of fixation, calling like this, yes–  I  _ am  _ sleeping with  _ Serena _ .” She stressed the syllables, enunciated her name.  _ Serena hated that nickname _ .   
  
Edward swallowed hard, not realising exactly how dangerously outraged and resentful the woman on the other line of the phone was. A wiser man would have skulked off by now, tail – _ or other appendices–  _ hanging between his legs. But Edward wasn’t a wise man; far from it in fact.    
  
Before he could get too far in his describing his rather graphic fantasies, Bernie cut him off. It might have been for the better. Hippocratic oath or not, she was still a trauma surgeon with a very precise knowledge of the human body. She knew exactly which non-essential bones to break in order to inflict an excruciating amount of pain.   
  
“Frigid dyke,” he mumbled, silenced by the dressing down Bernie had just given him.   
  
“Excuse me?” She was beyond fed up now.   
  
“You are, aren’t you?” He couldn’t resist. “It’s what they say at St. James’.”   
  
Bernie gritted her teeth, sucked in a breath, pursed her lips.    
  
“No,” she managed to mutter. “I prefer to call it ‘a woman who  _ actually _ comes ’.” She grinned slightly, practically hearing Edward’s brain whirring for a reply, but she didn’t give him a chance.    
  
“Good night, Edward. Don’t call again.” 

When she enters their bedroom and sees Serena lying there, cozied up with Bernie’s pillow she feels smug though. She can’t help but think, “ _Damn right Edward, I_ _am_ _sleeping with Serena and she’s absolutely amazing,”_ as she slips back into bed and kisses Serena tenderly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Regency/Sentenciousandbellicose and Matildaswan for beta-ing! There was some smut in here originally, but that will be in the last chapter/epilogue, so y'all can count yourself warned ;)
> 
> Also, please let me know what you thought of Bernie's struggle, that was a difficult one to write tbh. And brownie points to whoever is seeing what I've been trying to practice writing these ficlets (especially in this section).


	4. True Experiences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. IT'S DONE. As always, many thanks to Reg for being an amazing beta as always! Also thanks to BlueBeetle and GinDiva for cheering me on as I was moaning and groaning about finishing this chapter (and all the other things on the to-do list)! I hope you've enjoyed this, I will now crawl back to my ever-growing pile of AUs!
> 
> NOTE: This chapter is partially explicit; after the phone call between Dom and Bernie. You can just skip to the next snippet (Hanssen) !

Dom had been the first to truly exploit Bernie’s weak spot for Serena.  
Bernie had woken up confused in the middle of the night, not sure why or how she had woken up. After a moment she hears her phone vibrate against the wood of her nightstand. She frowns. The clock next to her softly lights up and informs her it’s way past midnight. She picks up the phone and sees Dom’s name light up on the display, hurting her eyes. There are 5 missed calls and 13 texts and a lot of Whatsapp messages. She quickly picks up before it can disturb Serena, clambers out of bed and rushes into the bathroom. The bathroom is cold and the harsh light burns into her retina, causing her to almost walk into the sink when she sits down against the radiator.

“Dom?!” she hisses softly, sounding annoyed but secretly hoping nothing is wrong.

“Miss Wolfe! Hi, how are you? How’s the conference?” he slurs cheerfully and Bernie can hear something she identifies as ‘club music’ in the background.

“Doctor Copeland., ” she manages. “Fine, until you woke me you, thank you very much.” She hears Dom giggle on the other end. “I take it Holby is still standing, then?”

“Very much, just spinning a bit-” Dom laughs again and Bernie sighs in exasperation.

“Why are you calling me, Doctor Copeland? And why in the middle of the night, rather than at a more... conventional hour.”

“Ah yes, there’s that! Well, I, ehm…had some ah- news to share and an erhm- request to make... ”

“Out with it, Doctor Copeland,” Bernie interjects with an exhausted but entertained huff. “Preferably before dawn, I’d like to go back to bed.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to keep Miss Campbell from-”

“Doctor Copeland...” Bernie warns him with a chuckle

“Yes, yes- ” Dom huffs. “I just called to say we can finally go on these double-dates.”

“...What?”

“Oh, Miss Wolfe, you promised that if I’d ever find a ‘Nice and proper young man-’ ”

“Ha!” Bernie honks softly so as not to wake up Serena. “I remember nothing of the sort, Doctor Copeland. So tell me what, scheme have you thought up now?”

Dom huffs and mutters softly as he relents. “Fine, fine! You win. I need you two to help me.”

Bernie hums questioning, wondering what Dom has gotten himself into this time.

“So, I met this amazing guy - smart, funny and madly attractive and...”

“And?” She wonders what’s the catch with this one.

“So.. The thing is, I asked him on a date and but he isn’t really interested, but he is very interested in AAU and the trauma unit and apparently has read about both your and Miss Campbell’s work. So I thought...” he says suggestively, leaving a gap for Bernie to fill in, which she does in good humour.

“So you thought we could wingman - woman you?” Bernie chuckles.

“Yes, exactly!” Dom replies enthusiastically

“Ha! No way, Doctor Copeland, no way. It’s a good try, but I am sure there would be better candidates for the job.” She tries to be firm, but fails miserably as she grins throughout. “I’m sure Doctor Di Lucca would be more than happy to ‘assist’ you in your ‘endeavours’.”

“Yes, of course, I understand, ” he says cheerfully and Bernie is surprised that it was that easy, but then he continues with badly acted melancholy, “But I was so looking forward to it… And I’m sure Miss Campbell would love it… I had this idea for this lovely Italian restaurant with an absolutely amazing wine list...”

She can practically hear Dom pout on the other side of the line and relents.

“Fine.” She smiles. “Even if I distinctly remember saying nothing about double-dates and I’m told I’m an awful wingwoman... But I’m sure Serena will be more than sufficient for both of us.” Dom chuckles. “It would require a minor miracle to find a gap in all our schedules anyway.”  
  
“Could always try bribing Hanssen,” Dom suggests and they both laugh.

They chat about the conference and the latest gossip at Holby for a bit, but it isn’t long until Bernie starts yawning.

“Right… Grandma is off to bed again.”

"Oh, of to bed you say? I don't suppose you could put that 'silver tongue' of yours to a good use and persuade Miss Campbell..."

Bernie would like to be scandalised, although she doesn't oppose the suggestion. Not that she'll ever admit that to Dom, though. "Off with you, Doctor Copeland... Go do some shots." She laughs, foregoing the faux-scandalised act.

“Good night, Miss Wolfe,” he says suggestively.

She snorts and pauses a moment before adding, “And Doctor Copeland… try and behave yourself.”

They both chuckle and she hears the muffled crackle of Dom pressing his finger to his phone to end the call. Double-date it is.  
  
“What’s happened?” Serena mumbles into the pillow as Bernie slips back into bed, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“Nothing, but I do need a favour of you,” Bernie answers as she pushes the covers towards the end of the bed. Serena shoots her a confused look as she wakes up slightly when the cool air of the room caresses her skin, connecting the dots as Bernie crawls down the mattress towards her.

"Hmm, what kind of favour?" Serena asks, voice still cranky with sleep.  
  
Bernie kisses her way up Serena’s calf, leisurely stroking her thighs, foreshadowing what is to come with soft kisses pressed to the inside of Serena’s knees.  
"Double-date for Dominic," Bernie answers between kisses. "He needs your incredible charm to convince his date."

Serena hums as Bernie hooks her fingers into her underwear and rests there, waiting a moment, giving Serena this moment of sweet anticipation.

"And you thought you'd exchange sexual favours for social graces?" Her breath hitches and Bernie shoots her a wolfish grin.

"Me? Never."  
  
Serena squirms and presses her thighs together, before Bernie relents and slides the lace down her legs. Serena shifts her legs, pushing the covers away, looking down at Bernie with dark eyes, now fully awake. Bernie smirks as she throws Serena’s knickers over her shoulder and moves up Serena’s body.

"Good ah-" She pants when Bernie reaches up to squeeze a nipple, before moving her hand down again. "Wouldn’t want to think you were just using me." Bernie chuckles at that and continues her journey upwards.

She nips lightly at the skin of Serena’s thighs, runs her hands over smooth skin, fingertip caressing stretch marks she has come to love so much. Serena moans, spreads her legs, invites her in; for a brief moment Bernie wonders if she should tease Serena, make her want. Then looks at Serena, already flushed and spread wide, knows she already does, and decides against it.

She lifts a leg over her shoulder and Bernie can feel Serena shudder in anticipation as her hands weave themselves into her hair. She presses a quick kiss to the inside of Serena’s thigh, breathes deep to smell her arousal, slides her fingers through damp folds.

Serena releases her breath, whispering encouragement as Bernie teases just a little, fingertips ghosting over Serena’s center as she dips her head to press her tongue flat against her.

Bernie loves the feeling of Serena’s thighs against her cheeks, feeling her legs frame her face. They’re warm and strong, and held firm against her, as they fill her mind with pleasant imagery whenever she touches them.

But thoughts pale in comparison to being trapped between Serena’s thighs as Bernie builds a steady rhythm with her tongue, only interrupting to close her lips around Serena’s clit and suck hard. She knows Serena, knows where she is most sensitive, knows she revels in the occasional rough touch and indulges her. Bernie languishes in building Serena up until she is quivery and presses two fingers against her entrance before sliding in. Serena groans, low and throaty, and cants her hips upwards.

Bernie leans back for a moment, to admire the woman before her, and nuzzles the soft inside of her thigh. God, does she love her.

She slides her fingers in and out, builds a steady rhythm, curls her fingers and reattaches her mouth to Serena’s hot center. Somewhere above her Serena is murmuring expletives mixed with encouragement. Not that Bernie needs any.

It isn’t long till Serena is panting loudly, one hand firmly in Bernie’s hair and the other cupping a breast under her vest. It’s a sight Bernie will never tire of: Serena right on the edge, pinching her own breasts, and moaning wantonly as her hips writhe in time with Bernie’s hand.

Bernie licks, long and precise, to keep Serena on the edge for just a moment more. Takes mercy and sucks her clit hard, smiles against her core as she sends Serena right over the edge. She works her through it, alternating between lips and tongue; all she can taste is Serena on her lips and Bernie feels her own desire pulse desperately between her legs.

Eventually Serena tugs her hair and Bernie sits back, face glistening with Serena's arousal, and she looks up into Serena’s eyes.

Serena smirks, satisfied and wanting, and reaches out towards Bernie.  
Bernie sits back on her knees, moves to straddle Serena’s hips, never breaking eye contact. She looks down at Serena, see how much Serena likes seeing her desire burn in her eyes, so she keeps looking at Serena as she cups her own breast. She lets out a whimper when she tweaks a nipple through her top - it doesn’t do much for her when she’s on her own, touching her breasts, but with Serena’s eye fixated on her it arouses her greatly.

She knows that Serena knows and feels herself clench at that thought. Serena knows she’s getting off on this, knows she’s so very aroused - she can’t hold herself back any longer and slips her hand between her legs, finds herself wet and swollen against her fingers. Christ... She moans and closes her eyes.

“Look at me,” Serena’s commands with a low voice. Bernie obliges - the things Serena makes her do; the things Serena makes her want to do - and opens her eyes to find Serena fixated on her with a look that shoots sparks straight to her groin. She rocks against her own fingers, moaning again, louder now and pushes her slip as far down her thighs as her current position allows.

She feels Serena slide up her top to uncover her breasts and she feels so very exposed like this, feels how much this excites her as she slips two fingers inside herself and feels her own wetness. All the while Serena’s dark eyes hold her gaze. Until Bernie manages to curl her fingertips just right and she gasps as she breaks eye contact to loll her head back.

Serena’s eyes wander over Bernie’s body, lingering to take in her lips and breasts, to take in how Bernie is pleasuring herself.

“Do that again,” Serena growls, and Bernie does. She touches herself harder on Serena’s command and grinds down her fingers, rubs her clit against her palm, searching for more friction. She quivers against her hand while Serena watches as she reclines underneath her.

Her other hand sneaks up to her breast again, but before she can reach Serena pushes her hand away, shifts beneath her and sits up. Before Bernie can process what is happening Serena’s tongue, lips and then teeth are on her nipple, warm, hot and teasing. She exclaims a sound third gasp, a third moan, a third cry. She fights to keep her eyes open and fixed on Serena.

It isn’t just Bernie who knows her partner’s body well. Serena does too and is even better at applying that knowledge. Bernie’s breasts fit perfectly into the palms of Serena’s hands, but right now she isn’t that interested in hands. Serena opts to alternate drawing wide circles with nipping slightly and the occasional grazing of teeth, before switching her attention to the other nipple. Never quite giving Bernie what she wants, till she can see Bernie’s nipples red and swollen and she bites at her, playfully, soothes the mark with her tongue.

Serena hears a soft whine above her head, looks up to see Bernie’s dark eyes staring down through her fringe, her mouth hanging open as another moan escapes when Serena flicks the tip of her tongue at Bernie’s left nipple.

She is right on the edge when Serena suddenly pulls away and stills Bernie’s movements with an iron grip. Bernie whimpers. She is so close, feels herself throbbing with painful need. Her free hand winds itself in Serena’s hair to urge her on, but also to stabilise herself; her knees might just give way. But Serena pulls away and stills Bernie’s hand instead, replacing it with her own and rubs around her in small, languid circles, never quite touching her where she needs it most.

Bernie slings her hand around Serena’s shoulder, it’s the only thing holding her up now, begging and pleading.

Serena doesn’t give in, teases a little more, lips both soft and demanding at once. She holds Bernie on the edge but refuses to let her fall. Bernie whimpers in her arms, as if she is being devoured tenderly; then Serena bites her and there is nothing tender about it.

It’s hungry and passionate and it makes her whimper and gasp. Serena gradually speeds up, but slows again whenever she feels Bernie grinds down a bit too eagerly. She is still straddling Serena, leaning against the smaller women underneath her, but she has lost any semblance of control; desperately needing release, refusing to take up, begging to be given it. It’s only when her words slip into an incoherent stream of expletives that Serena takes pity and speeds up, working her fingers roughly and her thumb never leaving Bernie’s swollen clit.

Bernie gasps and moans when she comes in Serena’s hand; waves rolling through her with Serena’s lips on her nipples and Serena’s arms the only thing holding her upright.

The waves subside, leaving Bernie twitching and trembling, and Serena slowly lowers her into the mattress. She feels kisses peppered all over her still quivering body.

Finally, she drops a last kiss on Bernie’s nose before she lies down and curls into Bernie. Now that her limbs seem to have resumed normal functioning, Bernie drapes herself around Serena and strokes her hair, dozing off already. She lowers her head to feel Serena’s silky hair tickle her cheek, taking in the scent that is unique to her lover. Just before her eyes fall shut and they are engulfed in deep, satisfied sleep, she mumbles the last words into Serena’s hair.

“I love you.”

 

 

* * *

  
Dom was the first to exploit, but Hanssen was the first to truly experience their coupling in full intensity. In all honesty, he was a bit annoyed with himself. He had known for the longest of times that there was something was going on between the two women and it had been no surprise to him when they had finally gotten together. Nevertheless, he had managed to make this colossal mistake. With a deep sigh he turned around to reach for the drawer of his nightstand and dug up a pair of earplugs that he hoped would drown out the mewling noises which he had identified as his deputy CEO. 

He would be more careful booking the hotel rooms for the next conference.  
  


* * *

  
Dom was the first to exploit, Hanssen was the first to experience, but Bernie had been the first person Serena had truly missed, but who had also been worth the wait. Serena had needed some fresh air before calling Bernie and somehow her feet had led her to the roof. It wasn’t a place she visited often as it reminded her of hard times and her stomach still churned a little when she thought about seeing Jasmine standing next to her deckchair, smiling and alive. Nevertheless, she was here now and felt the cold air whistling through her finally greyed hair. She missed having Bernie around; she had run AAU for ages without the blonde at her side, but now she missed her. The last few months had been spent fighting the hospital board with Ric at her side, arguing that after the failure of the neuro-unit they ought to at least reinstate trauma. It had been a hard and arduous fight, not helped by the presence of certain individuals in the hospital. If only strangling someone with their own stethoscope wasn’t illegal, or “a waste of a perfectly innocent stethoscope” as Hanssen had put it...

“You both like hiding up here then.” Someone interrupted her musing. When she swirled around she saw Doctor Copeland casually perched against a wall. It had been a while since they had spoken, the last time might have been that dinner double-date where she had attempted to set the young man up with another man, who in her opinion was far below his standard. Bernie had later told her they hadn’t lasted long. Bernie. She shook the thoughts from her mind and focussed on the man in front of her.

“Not ‘hiding’ exactly.” She laughs.

“Just making sure you won’t ‘strangle someone using their own bloody stethoscope’ ?” He asks sweetly and Serena raises an eyebrow in return. “Miss Wolfe keeps me in the loop.” He shrugs after a moment.

“Does she now?” Serena asks, but not unfriendly.

“The occasional text or call,” Serena chuckles “once every three months...”

At that they both laugh; Bernie isn’t exactly great at regular updates.

“She misses you, y’know?” Dom says, more serious now. “Always goes on and on about what you would do or say in theatre or during discussions on treatment.” He rolls his eyes. “Maybe if she misses you so much, she should just come back, it’s dreadfully empty on the roof these days.”

“Is Icarus no good? I’ve always found him quite enjoyable company.”

“Icarus?” Dom asks with a raised eyebrow.

“The pigeon.” Serena gestures. Dom wrinkles his nose in response.

“I can’t believe she left though, she was always going on about how great it would be to have you back on the ward - and then she goes on and leaves.” Dom complains with an exasperated sigh.

Serena giggles and shakes her head at the young man’s theatrics, she could see why Bernie liked him. “She misses you, too; always asks how you’re doing...” It’s her turn for seriousness.

“Oh?”  
  
“Got to wheedle it out of Doctor Levy every month, maybe I should ask for a newsletter instead.”

“I doubt he’d manage though, between all his dates and temporary girlfriends.”

“Oh!” Serena exclaims “Now there’s something worthy of discussion at Albie’s tonight.”

Both of them smirk before they fall silent again.

“I hope she returns soon.” Dom says softly, eyes cast downwards.

“Me, too.” Serena replies, wistfully staring at the buildings spreading out on the ground below. “Me, too...”  
  


* * *

  
Dom had been first to exploit, Hanssen had been first to experience, Serena had been first to miss and Bernie at last knew what it felt like to be truly happy…

When Bernie had returned from Sudan they decided it was time to start a project they had been putting off since long before either of them had left: re-decorating the living room - their living room. So they had picked their paint and wallpaper (Serena had selected and Bernie nodded), bought some new furniture (Serena judged the fabric and Bernie tested the compatibility with her back) and had begun the overhaul (Serena helped with the painting but bailed when the wallpaper came up and Bernie hadn’t minded as it meant Serena cooing sweet encouragement and squeezing her biceps).

Bernie was in the middle of gluing the wallpaper while the paint on the windowsills dried when she heard the doorbell. She frowned as she wondered as to who could be there. She hadn’t been expecting anyone.

“Just a moment,” she shouted as she worked to finish the stroke of paper. “In the middle of some wallpaper here!”

As soon as she finished Bernie walked to the hall and paused a moment to glance at the mirror before opening the door. Her hair was even more of a mess than usual with specks of white paint scattered in it and smudges of paint on her face and clothes, but it would have to do. When she manages to open the door without smearing paint everywhere she freezes for a moment. She doesn’t believe her eyes; does a retake. The image doesn’t change.

Her mother.

Her mother is standing there, on her doorstep - their doorstep.

“Mum,” she stammers once she has scraped together enough brain cells to form coherent thought.

Her mother doesn’t answer immediately, but seems to be scrutinising her unkempt appearance. No doubt staring at the glue stains, dirty nails and paint splatters. She can’t help but feel exposed by it, even now.

“Berenice,” her mother finally says, her voice is clipped and Bernie can feel herself shrinking under her mother’s gaze. “You’ve changed your hair.” Her voice is softer now.

  
Not quite the critique she has been expecting. Or not yet at least… After a moment of awkward silence she invites her in, not knowing what else to do. Bernie leads them into the living room, not really knowing what to do and explains they have been redecorating; rambling on about the choice of wallpaper. All the while her mother says nothing and sits down on the chair in the corner, her back ramrod straight and lips pursed together. Bernie falls silent, staring up at her mother anxiously. She wishes she were braver, could actually look her in the eyes and not be intimidated, but she can’t.

“We?” Her mother asks, voice clipped.

Bernie can feel the bile rising in the back of her throat as fear bubbles up from her stomach. She panics a little and starts to stammer, desperately searching for words that aren’t coming. Her mother gives her a look she finds difficult to describe, there is clearly some disappointment and contempt in her eyes, but also something else she can’t quite place. She swallows.

“I know-” Her mother vaguely gestures at the room around her “that you’re living together with...” Bernie stares at her like a deer caught in the headlights.

“With a- a-” She doesn’t seem to be able to bring herself to speak the word.

“Her name is Serena.” Bernie blurts out; might as well cut to the chase and be done with it.

“Ah...” Her mother falls silent.

For a moment mother and daughter sit together, both unsure what to say and rivaling each other in their levels of discomfort. They take in one another and examine how time has worn them both. Her mother is an old woman now and even if she still carries herself that same rigid composure as twenty years ago, her shoulders have slumped and her back is slightly angled. Bernie doubts if she can walk up a flight of stairs unassisted or even wash her own laundry- it strikes her she doesn’t know. They haven’t seen each other or spoken to one another properly for more than a decade now, with no contact at all the past few years. Her mother had never liked Marcus much - by now Bernie has to admit that she couldn’t blame her - and her mother had disapproved heavily with her choice to serve, rather than be home with her children and husband. It struck her as ironic, as the military was in her blood, her family always having been an army family, but apparently that honour and privilege only extended to the male line. Her mother has argued that a woman’s place was at home, with her husband and children; she might go and work as a doctor, but she’d still be home for dinner and there for all the school plays and birthday parties. Bernie had obviously disregarded her mother’s opinion, kissed her children and husband goodbye and done the job she was proud to do.

“You still visit,” her mother declares.

Bernie looks up at her and tilts her head in confusion. Still visited what? She didn’t get a response; her mother simply stares back at her, willing her to extract the meaning from the words she had spoken into the room. Not something Bernie had ever been particularly good at and which had led to many fights over the years.

Her mother’s words are now stifling the room. They creep behind the freshly applied wallpaper and seep into the drying glue, slowly working their way into the very fabric of air between them. It constricted her neck and bore down on her shoulders. Bernie casts her eyes downwards, observing the wrinkles in the plastic covering the carpet. Its semi-transparent surface is covered in specks of paint and smears of glue, with dust, sand and other indefinable grains dried into it. The chair in the corner on which her mother is currently seated is the only thing not covered in either protective wrap or paint splatters like the plastic garden chair on which she is perched. Normally that chair holds Serena when she watches Bernie work and offers the occasional encouragement as she is sipping Shiraz.

“The grave, I mean,” her mother says in a carefully controlled voice, but Bernie can hear the tremors she is trying to hide so desperately. She simply nods in response as she doesn’t quite trust her own voice.

“I saw the flowers-” Bernie looks out the window, her eyes are starting to water. “And the card.” She’s pushing back tears now.

“They’re lovely. The flowers, I meant.” Her mother stammers a little and Bernie looks up in surprise. She can see her own strained expression mirrored on her mother’s face. A face worn down by age and grief, pain and loneliness are seeping through cracked skin and tears are threatening to break through the carefully maintained facade.

They fall silent again, but not uncomfortable this time as they acknowledge each other's pain and grief.

The silence is disturbed by a set of keys jangling in the lock and Serena shouting to announce her presence as she enters. She starts to complain about the state of the hallway and the kitchen; goes on about how Bernie had promised to clean the chocolate stains from the kitchen table and hoover the hallway, but how instead there now seemed to be crumbs everywhere, “-and Christ Bernie, there’s even bloody paint splatters in the sink!” Serena exclaims.

Bernie can feel herself grow red and she instantly feels fearful and nauseous. She loves Serena very much, but she isn’t sure if she is quite ready to have her meet her mother. Her stomach churns and she can feel the bile rising in her throat, she starts to fidget when she chances to look up at her mother and instantly spots the disapproval and discomfort displayed on her face clear as day.

Serena however, isn’t quite finished. “I bet there’s paint all over your hair again and it’ll take ages to wash it out again. This time I am not helping you. Also,” Serena continues relentlessly,. “have you finally made an appointment to get your hair cut? Because we are not going out for dinner next week with your hair in that state.”

An unexpected sound makes Bernie jerk her head away from the doorframe and back to her mother. She’s chuckling - definitely in a more dignified manner than Bernie had ever managed - and looks at Bernie’s hair. They share a look in which both remember all the discussions they had about Bernie’s hair, starting when Bernie went to college and no longer bothered to carefully style her hair and ending only when they finally broke contact.

Their glance is interrupted when Serena swans into the living room, still ranting about the state of the house and next week’s dinner when she sees Bernie’s mother and instantly recognises the thin lips and lithe frame. For a moment Serena freezes, visibly racking her brain about how to react to this unexpected and possibly volatile situation in her living room. She remembers Bernie’s breakdown on the bench outside in their garden; it hadn’t been pretty. But Bernie seems well enough now, or as well as could be expected under these circumstances. Then, Serena decides to set out to do what she does best: charm everyone in a 5-meter radius. She shoots a sparkling smile at the woman awkwardly sat on the chair and invites her into the kitchen, apologising profusely for the mess and explaining how they were redecorating and how she would have made sure to have something nice ready if she had known that she would be visiting. And so she goes on. In the meantime, Bernie is still sitting in her plastic chair, completely petrified. Serena shoots her a look meant to comfort and then, in her sweetest voice, tells her to go upstairs and clean up. No matter the situation in their kitchen, there is no way that Serena will allow Bernie to track in (even more) paint.

The words spur Bernie into action. She takes off her shoes and races upstairs to wash up at the sink and put on some clean clothes. The cold water helps her cool down and when she looks up in the mirror, she sees her own wide, scared eyes. She doesn’t quite recognise herself, so she wills herself to calm down; closes her eyes, slowly counts to ten, opens them again. She looks better.

  
Downstairs, Serena is having a painstakingly awkward conversation with Bernie’s mother. They realise they both might have gotten along fine, if it weren’t for the unspoken matter between them. Surprisingly, it’s Bernie’s mother who shoots the elephant in the room. She asks Serena questions about her marriage, some of which would have been deemed intrusive otherwise, and about how they’d gotten together. Normally Serena would have objected, but she takes her head on; she recognises that this isn’t the time for politeness and awkward dancing around each other. The older woman tells Serena she still doesn’t approve of their ‘lifestyle’, but will accept it for what it is. Nevertheless, between the lines she expresses quite clearly that she is convinced that they will “come to terms” eventually. It takes Serena all her self-control to stop herself from glaring at the woman in front of her, she is Bernie’s mother after all. A tense silence follows. It is this moment that Bernie walks into the room and Serena isn't sure if it makes the situation better or worse. She awkwardly sits down next to Serena, but makes sure not to sit too close and nervously wrings her hands under the table's surface and says nothing. Serena is racking her brain for something to say, but it's Bernie's mother that attempts to save the situation with something that was probably meant as either a joke or a compliment.

"At least you're not one of those women." Serena looks up with an expression equal parts confusion and surprise.

"You know-" She gestures vaguely. "-with abnormal hair and tattoos." She crinkles her nose in disapproval and Serena can't help but treat her with the typical Campbell raised eyebrow.

"I do have short nails, though." It's out before she realises she's said it and looks up at Bernie's mother in alarm. At first, it's shock that passes over the older woman's face and Serena decides she might as well stick to her game now, then there is some amusement and a trace of Bernie's grin. "I am a surgeon, after all." Serena offers her most charming smile. "Can't go around piercing someone's inner organs," she says innocently. Bernie is blushing furiously during the entire exchange and keeps flitting her gaze from one woman to the other nervously.

They both laugh now and Serena notices the older woman's laugh is a milder version of Bernie's characteristic honk. So that's where that came from, she thinks. Bernie's eyes are wide with surprise.

Now that the worst of awkwardness has passed, they slowly start chatting. Mainly about work and the hospital, a few questions are asked about Elinor, but Bernie's mother senses the grief and lets it be after giving Serena's hand a firm squeeze. Eventually, even Bernie joins their conversation and a collection of embarrassing childhood, teenage and college memories are shared. Serena and Bernie's mother both laugh and chuckle as Bernie's attempts to protest their comments about her hair and messiness, she soon realises she stands no chance and relents. When the sun starts to set outside they call a taxi, even if the older woman insists that she's "perfectly fine to take the bus, thank you very much." Serena resists the need to roll her eyes and instead comments that she can see where Bernie got her stubbornness.  
  
When the taxi arrives, they walk her to the front door and say their goodbyes. Bernie's mother even gives Serena a firm squeeze when she rests her hand on her upper arm and Serena doesn't miss how Bernie lights up at that. The woman is halfway down their front door steps when she halts and turns. They look at her, not sure what's happening. Her lips quiver as if she wants to say something, but isn't sure what or how. Her eyes flicker down to their hands, Bernie tries to quickly shove her hands into her pockets, but as always her mother is faster. Her eyes flicker upwards again.

"You have my blessing." Her voice is measured, yet awkward and attempting to be casual. Bernie's jaw drops a little, but she quickly recovers when Serena gives her a jab with her elbow. Bernie's mother shoots Serena a stiff, but entertained smile and they share a knowing look as Bernie looks down at her feet through her fringe.

"I can't make Tuesdays and Thursdays." And with that she straightens her back and walks off to her taxi.

Serena can feel Bernie relax next to her when they watch the taxi drive away. "Come on," she says softly as she slings her arm around Bernie's shoulder. "Let's get you inside."

Bernie doesn't move for a moment, but eventually she slowly turns and looks at Serena. Exhaustion pulls on her limbs and only now she realises her overwhelming need to lie down and curl up somewhere. It is as if she has just come out of a grueling seven-hour surgery, even if it was only tea with her mother. But it's alright because Serena is with her and has always been with her. She had stuck with her as she ran to Kiev, done the best she could after Elinor died, stayed in touch when she was in France and when Bernie went to Sudan. She had been there when her father died, when she argued with her mother and when she temporarily cut off all contact from her family. Serena always listened and tried to understand (and usually did) and for that she felt eternally grateful - and, hopefully, she could be for many years to come. She covers Serena's hand resting on her shoulder with her own.

"I love you, y'know?"

"I know, I love you too."

 


End file.
